


darling dearest

by kathkin



Series: witcher prompt fills [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: “I just find it curious,” she went on. “After all, they say witchers don’t feel love as men do.”“That’s simply nonsense. Geralt loves me very dearly. Don’t you, my darling? My honeycake? My beautiful white rose?”Geralt poses as Jaskier's lover to get into an exclusive party. Geralt is not a good actor. It's all business, naturally.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: witcher prompt fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093319
Comments: 35
Kudos: 785





	darling dearest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [oughentumble](https://roughentumble.tumblr.com/) for the following prompts from [this two part drabble challenge](https://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/626068295886438400/two-part-drabble-game):
> 
> _28\. pretend relationship_
> 
> _8\. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anybody."_

“So I’m thinking we try to keep on the down low,” said Jaskier as they stepped into the hall, where the ball was already in full swing. “Don’t want a repeat of last time I took you to a party.”

“Mm-hm,” Geralt agreed.

“I’ll just do my thing while you get close enough to his lordship to do yours,” Jaskier waved his hand in a vague imitation of Axii, “and get the talisman off him.”

“I know the plan.”

“I know you do,” said Jaskier. “I’m just recapping.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know – nerves, I suppose.” Jaskier breathed in. “Alright.”

“Jaskier!” a voice called nearby. A beaming young man clad in green velvet was coming towards them, and all smiles Jaskier turned to greet him.

“Rupert,” he said.

Still beaming, Rupert said, “good to see you – what are you doing here?”

“At the party?” said Jaskier. “I _was_ invited.”

“I know you were,” said Rupert, ever-so-slightly accentuating the _you_. “But –” He nodded at Geralt.

 _Fuck_. This was going off the rails even faster than Geralt had expected. “Uh, you see –”

Jaskier talked clean over him. “He’s my lover.”

“He is?” said Rupert.

Geralt opened his mouth to ask Jaskier just what the hell he thought he was doing – but before he could speak Jaskier grabbed his hand and said, “shush, darling. We’re lovers,” he said to Rupert. “Is that a problem? I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

Rupert’s eyes flicked to Geralt in a manner which suggested his presence _was_ a problem, if a different one that originally anticipated. “Not at all,” he said graciously, and clapped Geralt heavily upon the shoulder. “So sorry for the misunderstanding. Enjoy the party.”

Geralt waited till he was safely out of earshot to ask. “The _fuck_ was that?”

“Hm?” Jaskier was looking vaguely in the direction of the refreshments. “That was his lordship’s eldest.”

“Yeah,” said Geralt, who had guessed as much. “Why did you tell him we’re _lovers_?”

“Oh, if one’s on the guest list one’s lover is invited by default,” Jaskier said. “That’s how these sorts of occasions work. Don’t you know how these sorts of occasions work?”

“No,” said Geralt flatly.

“Well,” said Jaskier with a smirk. “I do. C’mon, I’ll get you a drink.”

*

Later in the evening he found Jaskier in the midst of a polite conversation and towed him away so that they could talk. He was expecting a sharp retort for his rude interruption, but Jaskier just looked at him and said, “there you are. Did you get it?”

Geralt motioned at the pocket where the talisman was hidden.

“ _Good_ man,” said Jaskier, patting his chest.

Geralt studied him. “You’re drunk.” He could smell it on Jaskier’s breath. His pupils were blown out, his cheeks pink. He was loose-limbed and easy-going in a manner he only got when he was _very_ drunk. “Why’d you get so drunk?”

“M’blending in.” Jaskier sipped his wine. “You could do a better job of it. My lady!” he exclaimed to the lavishly dressed woman who was approaching them. “Have you met Geralt? I don’t think you two have met.”

The lady had two other less expensively dressed women at her heels, like twin brightly-coloured shadows. She was short, but she looked up at Geralt as if she was looking down on him. He didn’t care for it.

“Geralt of Rivia,” she said. “The witcher. And – Jaskier’s lover?”

“That’s right,” Jaskier said cheerily before Geralt could answer. He laid his hand once again on Geralt’s chest.

“Forgive me,” said the lady, “but I didn’t hear you’d taken a lover.”

“Well, it’s a very new relationship.” Jaskier had begun to stroke his chest. “Isn’t that right, my darling dearest?”

He was being so amorous that it was bordering on theatrical and Geralt was certain the assembled ladies could see right through it. But then, perhaps this was how Jaskier really acted with his lovers. “Yes,” he agreed, and in a fit of imagination supplied, “a week.”

“A week?” said the lady, her eyebrows elegantly arching.

 _A week?_ Jaskier mouthed at him so she couldn’t see. “What my dearest darling means of course is that it _feels_ like merely a week,” he babbled, “for time flies so when one is in lover. We have been together almost a year.” To Geralt he said, “naturally I wouldn’t bring my lover of only a week to an occasion such as this.”

“Naturally,” the lady agreed.

“And may I just say that you’ve been the most gracious of hostesses tonight?”

“You may,” said the lady. She waited for him to say it.

“You have been the most _gracious_ of hostesses,” Jaskier said.

“Thank you.” The lady looked again at Geralt, her eyes rolling up and down the length of him. “May I say that you’ve made a – strange – choice of lover?”

“Well.” Jaskier flashed her a smile. “You know me.”

 _Did_ she, Geralt wondered? He had no idea who this lady was – besides the wife of the lord he had just robbed – nor what she was to Jaskier.

“I just find it curious,” she went on. “After all, they say witchers don’t feel love as men do.”

“That’s simply nonsense,” said Jaskier loftily. “Geralt loves me very dearly. Don’t you, my darling? My honeycake? My beautiful white rose?”

Geralt said, “yes.”

Four sets of eyes burned into him and, hopelessly out of his depth, he realised that wasn’t an adequate reply.

“I love Jaskier.” He looked at him, at his dark blue eyes, the gently encouraging look in them edged with panic; the curve of his lips; his artfully mussed hair; and he said, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side, a fond look upon his face, and for a moment Geralt wondered if he believed it.

Of course, he was far too drunk for that.

Pressing a hand to his own chest Jaskier said, “spoken from the heart, as always. Now, if you’ll excuse us, ladies, I’m very tired and I think it’s time we took our leave. Wouldn’t you agree, my sugarplum?”

“Yes,” said Geralt. “Darling.”

Jaskier shot him a tight-lipped smile. “Good night, my lady! Lovely to see you again.”

Their goodbyes all said, he ushered Geralt away into the shadow of a pillar, out of sight of the revellers.

“ _Phew_.” He collapsed against the pillar. “Oh, my. When I’m sober remind me to never put you on the spot like that again.”

“Gladly,” said Geralt. “Honeycake?”

“Well you’re very sweet,” Jaskier deadpanned. Turning he put his hand on Geralt’s chest, fondly patting it, and Geralt wondered if he was still playing a part. “You were useless,” he said. “Oh, you big useless lump. I love you so.”


End file.
